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If it was up to Kay he would never set eyes on Fabletown again, but as it happens it wasn’t up to Kay. He likes being close but not too close, and he prefers keeping in touch through the safety of the telephone. So when duty came knocking Kay didn’t exactly jump at the call. Except if it was because of a lack of options or a lack of compassion the new sheriff pressured Kay into relocating back to Fabletown where his sight was restored. Kay, an optimist by necessity, prefers the former explanation.
Kay takes his white cane and he takes his black glasses. He stops himself from reaching up to fix his hair when he catches his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He would rather stay at home.
When Kay leaves his apartment, a cheap rundown place on the edge of Fabletown, he locks the door behind him and pretends to navigate by feel instead of sight. Another day out means more secrets kept and another lie lived, and the hypocrisy of his situation doesn’t escape him.
The trip to the Woodland Apartments is mercifully lonely, but when Kay enters through the glass doors he’s immediately greeted by Grimble’s snoring and the chattering of Fabletown residents waiting for a few minutes with their mayor. At this time of the day, and most other times of the day for that matter, there is always an irate line of people waiting outside the Fabletown office. The unfortunate reality is that many of them will never get the audience they want or need.
“Sorry,” Kay says as he navigates his way to the front of the line. “Pardon me.”
People shuffle out of the way out of instinct, making way for the man they still think is blind. Except because they think he’s blind, Kay has to pretend not to notice the spiteful looks they don’t bother hiding. No one likes someone who cuts in line.
“Kay,” a voice greets, and this one sounds friendly at least. “I haven’t seen you since the election. What brings you back to Fabletown?”
“Hi Vulco,” Kay greets back as he stops and turns to face Vulco Crow. “You know how it is, you can’t stay away forever. But I do have an appointment, or at least I think so. They really should have called instead of sending me a letter.”
Kay grins at the admittedly bad joke and Vulco laughs. The crow brother is still wearing his apron and chef’s hat, having come straight from work to try his luck in the office line.
The dagger sinks down to the hilt. A line is torn through leathery skin and putrid flesh. Blood leaks out and drips down the goblin’s bare chest. The goblin screeches in pain and tries to claw at the scout who jumps back out of reach. Flesh sucks at the blade but has no choice but to give and blood quickly fills the hole in the goblin’s chest. Hot blood spills freely onto barren ground. The goblin presses a shaking hand to the wound. Blood continues to pour from his chest and now it runs down his arm. The goblin takes shallow racking breaths as he tries to stop the bleeding. He is too late. His heart weakens with every desperate pulse. His eyelids flutter. His body pitches forwards. He tries to stop himself from falling but his ankle twists beneath him when he steps out to catch himself. He stumbles and falls. His head smashes open on a fallen warrior’s tarnished shield. Chunks of flesh and coarse hair cling to shards of white bone. Blood pours from the goblin’s head and pools beneath his body. His mouth is agape. His eyes are wide but unseeing. His killer did not linger. He left as soon as his knife was free. He shed his human form and took to the sky on black wings. The goblin’s death was witnessed by none but a man with cursed sight.
“They’ve been really busy lately,” Vulco remarks through the vision. “Must be the not so secret war effort.”
The crow brother pauses as he considers the fact that Kay returned in the midst of war preparations. Kay’s ability is something of an open secret that the majority of Fabletown’s oldest residents remember from the early days of paranoia and high security. Vulco considers asking if Kay is here for the long-run, but decides it’s safer for everyone if he doesn’t.
“They probably think I have some insight,” Kay says. “I don’t know what I can tell them that I haven’t already written down, but I guess I’ll find out.”
“Things have changed a lot since Bigby and Snow left,” Vulco muses. “But we all knew it would happen, especially with Charming as mayor. There was no way they would have worked together. Go on then, Kay. Don’t get stuck in line with the rest of us.”
“I’ll make sure I drop by the diner for pancakes later.”
Kay lifts a hand in a poorly aimed good bye and navigates to the office door. He knocks twice before letting himself in.
“—don’t know what you expect me to do about that!” Beauty shouts as she drops a stack of papers onto Mayor Charming’s desk.
Neither seem to care about the papers that flutter to the ground, but they both look up when Kay closes the door behind him.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Kay says. “You asked me to come?”
Prince Charming crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, his feet up on the desk and pushing himself precariously onto the chair’s back legs. Beauty mutters something under her breath and forces a smile as she turns to Kay.
“Sheriff Beast had to go handle an emergency,” she says, “and we can’t continue without him. I’m sorry, but we have to reschedule you for tomorrow.”
Slender hands break the water’s surface and grasp desperately at thin air. Stronger hands grab the woman by her neck. The woman is pushed down into the shallow creek against every thrash. Dirt swirls in the water. The woman’s lips move in a silenced plea for mercy and her last breaths bubble to the surface. Her eyes are wide with fear and panic. Her water-logged dress pulls her down. It isn’t long before the bubbles stop and her thrashing stills. Her hands drop into the water with a quiet splash. Her lips stop moving and her eyes glaze over. Her body goes limp and relaxes into the bottom of the creek. Her mouth is still agape as she stares up at her killer with unseeing eyes. The killer removes her hands and allows the body to sway gently in the current. The dead woman’s long hair swirls almost peacefully in the water. She looks identical to Beauty.
“That’s alright,” Kay says. “I know you’re all busy. Same time then?”
“Yes,” Beauty replies. “That would be better.”
“But if anything urgent comes up,” Charming interrupts, “then you come straight here. Don’t just sit on anything you see. We need all the information we can get.”
The rapier is pushed so far through the man’s bare chest that the blade emerges from his back. His own sword falls from his hand as pain spasms through his body. His glasses fall and clatter to the cobblestone floor. Blood flows down the blade and over the hilt. Chunks of stringy gore cling to the blade where it breaks through his back. The man stares down at the sword in his chest with wide eyes as he sinks to his hands and knees. His skin is pale and his hands are shaking. He is intent on delivering his final words even as he struggles to breathe with a punctured lung and heart. His killer does not seem to take any heed. His killer stands over him with his own less fatal wounds to tend. Blood pushes up the dying man’s throat and into his mouth until it starts to run down his chin. His body crumples all at once. He falls on his front and pushes the rapier in his chest down to its hilt. He dies face down in a growing pool of his own blood.
“You’ll be the first to know,” Kay assures the mayor. “Is there anything else?”
“No, that’s it for now,” Charming says with a shooing motion. “Go enjoy the nice day.”
“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Beauty adds.
Kay grins brightly and takes his leave. If they thought he didn’t notice that they couldn’t quite meet his eyes they are sadly mistaken, not that it bothers him anymore. He doesn’t know why they do it. They know that it doesn’t change anything, much as Kay wishes it did.
Kay knows that he should take a long walk through Fabletown, and normally he wouldn’t mind. He would happily catch up with everyone and enjoy the sunny day, but his duty weighs heavily. He knows he should be rooting out any of The Adversary’s agents hiding in Fabletown instead of wanting to give in to the rising urge to gouge out his eyes. He wants to help, and he’s always been unquestionably loyal to his fellow refugees, but even after all these centuries his curse hasn’t become any easier to bear. He wishes he could choose what he sees, but instead he is forced to see everything and to look upon any of the long-lived Fables is nearly unbearable.
The day has been long enough, and he wants to go home. Kay shakes off his thoughts and turns to leave, but as he does his bumps into someone turning down the path to the apartments. His heart drops and he feels sick, but it’s already too late.
“Excuse you, young man,” Frau Totenkinder says with a scrutinizing glare.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Kay says. “I guess I was a little lost in thought.”
“Distracted by something are you, Kay? Take care you don’t trip over your own feet.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time.”
Kay can’t tell if Totenkinder’s concern is genuine, but that’s normal for the witch. Regardless, his sight has already slipped away to something far darker.
The infant stares up from a wicker basket lined with grubby second-hand blankets. Barely two months old and already their instincts know something is wrong. The infant has no name. They stare up with wide eyes and their tiny limbs flail uselessly towards the woman leaning over the basket. A gurgle bubbles up from the infant’s chest. Drool spills from the corner of their mouth and dribbles down their chin. Gentle hands remove the infant from the basket and lay them on a stone slab decorated in ornate carvings. The stone is stained with years of spilled blood. The infant starts to cry. They flail their limbs more wildly now. The cut is fast and decisive. The knife slides through flesh and soft bone. With a practiced twist the infant’s tiny heart is crushed. The infant’s wailing is silenced by blood filling their weak lungs. Blood pools beneath them before overflowing and running down the sides of the slab. The infant’s death is quick and their brain all too willing to shut down. Their soul is not allowed to fly free. Instead it passes on to places that not even a witch or a cursed man can see. The killer’s power grows.
As soon as the vision passes a similar one takes its place. And then another. And then another. The places change and the killer decides to age. Some of the children are dressed in velvet while others are dressed in rags. Some are as light as snow and others are as dark as night. They all die with silenced screams on their lips. There is so much blood. There is enough blood to fill an ocean twice over.
Kay would not look away even if he could. Only he will mourn these forgotten children, too many of whom were unloved and bought or stolen or sold. He will never look away.
“I should be going,” Kay says. “My apologies again for bumping into you.”
“Apology accepted,” Totenkinder says. “By the way, you might as well enjoy this peace while it lasts.”
“That may not be an option for me, ma’am, but I appreciate the sentiment all the same. Have a good day.”
Totenkinder gives a soft hmph when she decides that his good wishes are genuine. Not even Kay could tell you how he can want good fortune for someone who still proudly bears the name Child Killer, but his compassion is always earnest.
Kay and Totenkinder part ways with the former navigating by memory and feel as his vision is still assaulted by the deaths of the innocent. He returns to his apartment just as his sight finally clears. He leaves his cane leaning against the wall by the door and makes his way to the bathroom. There he braces himself with both hands gripping the sink as he examines himself in the mirror. He cannot see his own sins, and this is one of his few reliefs from his curse. Not that it matters. He knows all too well what he would see.
Her skin is starting to turn translucent. Now Kay can start to see the spider webs of her veins. Her hands are cold even when folded around his. Things weren’t always this way. She carried a piece of winter back with her when she saved him. Now it clings to her skin and sinks down to her bones. The ground freezes beneath her feet and the air chills around her. It’s killing her just as much as it’s killing the earth. Kay’s fingers are starting to purple and his lips are numb from the cold. He’s crying but she is not. They’re only children. Kay knows it’s his fault and he tells her that she shouldn’t have come for him. He would take her place in a heartbeat if he could. She laughs and her breath leaves no cloud in the chilly air. She tells him that she loves him. He knows that. She tells him that he has to help her bring summer back. He knows that. There is a knife in his hands and her hands are wrapped around his. She tells him everything will be okay. He doesn’t think it will.
Kay shakes off the memory and sits down where he stands. He closes his eyes, plunging himself into comforting darkness. He wants to make it stop. He can make it stop, and it would be so easy. He’s done it hundreds of times by now. Except he reminds himself that there is a war to fight, and if his curse can help protect his friends then he’d never forgive himself for such a cowardly act.
Kay takes a deep breath. He reminds himself that it will be over soon. And then, one way or another, he can find peace again.